


don't you dream impossible dreams?

by oH_cRaMiTY_iTs_aMiTY



Series: "But loving her was red..." [2]
Category: Booksmart (2019)
Genre: Based on a Taylor Swift Song, F/F, Fluff, Gay, I Don't Even Know, Useless Lesbians, oof, yes i will die with booksmart as my witness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25050010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oH_cRaMiTY_iTs_aMiTY/pseuds/oH_cRaMiTY_iTs_aMiTY
Summary: Amy joins Hope on the boardwalk in Southern California, and Hope convinces her to go on the night of her life, sneaking onto a yacht club party in a marina near the beach.(Based on the Taylor Swift song "Starlight.")
Relationships: Amy/Hope (Booksmart)
Series: "But loving her was red..." [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814581
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	don't you dream impossible dreams?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Diana Silvers for making me “accidently” write this, I’m procrastinating my other story because I need to just... take a break and flush this out. Basically this might turn into a series of one-shots surrounding Amy and Hope and the entirety of the Red era. Your welcome?
> 
> I woke up at like 6am from hearing this song at low volume on my stereo… And I kept thinking of these two, and generally just wanted to do this. It’s garbage, but perhaps it’ll entertain you. 
> 
> Feel free to tell me how bad it is… I know it’s really crappy, I did edit, but I genuinely just wanted to get this done.
> 
> (yes, I believe that “Starlight” is really underrated. It needs more love.)

_I said, "Oh my, what a marvelous tune"  
It was the best night, never would forget how we moved.  
The whole place was dressed to the nines,  
And we were dancing, dancing  
Like we're made of starlight  
Like we're made of starlight_

It’s almost dusk when Amy parks her car in the almost empty lot. Venice beach spans itself in the distance, the greenish yellow lights illuminating the storefronts and shops, it almost concerns Amy how bright it seems from inside the driver’s seat of her Volvo, but she pays no mind to it as she kills the ignition, pushing open the driver door without a word, her sandals pad across the blacktop onto the boardwalk. Her keys jingling softly as she inhales the subtle smell of the Pacific Ocean.

The sun bleached pastel buildings and palm trees span the side of the walkway, the outline of Hope’s frame as it leans against a lamppost causes Amy to stop near her, pausing to push her keys into a pocket in her olive jeans.

“I thought you wouldn’t come out,” Hope chuckles to herself, spotting Amy as she stalls beside her, it makes Amy furrow a brow in confusion.

“I am _out_.”

“No,” Hope shakes her head, laughing softly, “Out with me.”

“Oh,” Amy says, “ _Well_ , don’t think this means anything.”

“it certainly does,” Hope shrugs, the tassels on her arms dancing as she unjumbles the tangled ones that lie across her chest, the worn leather-like material catches Amy’s eye.

It’s Hope’s signature look, pale yellow jacket paired with worn Levi’s. But the fact was, the sunset somehow shun light across the entire boardwalk to this exact spot, changing Amy’s hair to a burnt red, almost mesmerizing Hope instantaneously as she turns back to glance at the water. There’s foot traffic around them, food venders walking with crates of cold beverages hanging from their necks, and it doesn’t make either of them look away from each other.

They’ve seen this their whole lives, they grew up around this.

_I met Bobby on the boardwalk, summer of '45  
Picked me up late one night out the window,  
We were 17 and crazy, running wild, wild  
Can't remember what song it was playing when we walked in  
The night we snuck into a yacht club party  
Pretending to be a duchess and a prince_

Hope glances back to Amy’s puzzled expression as she idly stood, staring at Hope’s relaxed frame leaning against the metal rod,

“Why?” She feels the need to ask, earning a chuckle.

“You ditched your wife for me,” Hope states, a smug smile crossing over her lips, it makes Amy shoot a displeased look in Hope’s direction, clearly perplexed in the sarcasm laced comment directed towards her.

“Me and Molly aren’t dating,” Amy murmurs, following Hope’s gaze across the beach to the water, the sun illuminating each rippling wave as it came to rest momentarily across the horizon, evidently bathing the boardwalk into a sense of darkness.

Hope scoffs, “Right. Okay then Antsler.”

“I’m serious,” Amy says, “We’re _really_ just friends.”

“Whatever you say,” Hope shakes her head, an amused grin brushing across her lips as her arms fold across one another over her chest. Amy gives up fighting for a minute, craning her neck around to look up at the sky.

“Look at that moon,” Amy says after a minute.

“What about it?” Hope asks, looking around to catch sight of the pale sphere within the darkened blue sky.

“It’s full.”

“Are you a werewolf or something?” Hope asks wryly, making Amy scoff and shake her head.

If it weren’t for the souvenir and concession stands, Amy’s sure that the boardwalk would’ve became completely dark by this point, and for a moment she wonders if she would be okay with being like that with Hope. Blatantly sneaking beneath everyone’s noses to hang out like this, their young, and completely just embracing the informalities.

“No.” Amy replies, “just observing.”

Hope laughs softly, “Come on,” she says, pushing herself from the metal pole, startling Amy from her thoughts to stare at the taller girl in shock.

“What?”

Hope waves her arm to gesture for Amy to follow her, moving to scale the boardwalk to the beach, “Come walk with me.”

“I think I should just go home,” Amy ponders for a minute making Hope laugh softly.

“No you shouldn’t,” Hope shakes her head.

“No I shouldn’t,” Amy echoes, a blush crossing over her cheeks as Hope holds out her hand.

“Come on,” Hope says, “Don’t you want to live a little?”

_And I said, "Oh my, what a marvelous tune."  
It was the best night, never would forget how we moved.  
The whole place was dressed to the nines,  
And we were dancing, dancing  
Like we're made of starlight, starlight  
Like we're made of starlight, starlight_

Amy stares at Hope’s outstretched hand for a moment, the lamppost illuminating the lines in her palm in a deep orange, she takes a breath, looking back to Hope’s eyes, something of mischief beneath each hazel iris. Amy doesn’t know how she does it, but she nods, reaching out to grasp Hope’s hand, letting her lead them down towards the beach.

The orange and yellow tones paint each tassel on Hope’s jacket, swishing to the side as she momentarily looks back, before pausing on the turfed grass. She drops Amy’s hand and kneels to unlace a shoe, rolling each jean cuff over her calf before chuckling to herself.

And Amy watches as Hope pads through the sand, barefoot, she’s wordless as Hope runs further down the beach.

“What about your shoes?” Amy yells.

“Leave them,” Hope hollers back.

“There could be glass out there,” Amy shouts.

“Live a little.”

And something within Amy’s composure snaps, she feels it.

She instantaneously kicks off her sandals, and follows Hope’s lanky frame, water rushing around her ankles, and biting the inside of her cheek as Hope points up to the sky without a word.

Amy swears it’s the most magnificent sight ever imaginable, the sky full of stars. They seem dull from their distance, but Amy cannot help but smile at the sight.

_“It’s beautiful.”_

She doesn’t realize she’s said It aloud, but Hope seems to have caught wind of her words because she’s now chuckling at what Amy could only assume is her obliviously cautious nature.

They end up sitting on the beach, with Hope trying to skip pieces of broken cement across the water for a good twenty minutes, letting the waves carry the velocity of each stone, before pulling them to the bottom without another thought.

There’s a light in the distance though, and it catches Amy’s eye.

It’s artificial, and further down the side of the beach, where the marina is. It takes her a moment to point it out to Hope, but when she does Hope looks at her with an amused smile before climbing to her feet.

_He said, "Look at you: worrying too much about things you can't change.  
You'll spend your whole life singing the blues if you keep thinking that way."  
He was tryna skip rocks on the ocean, saying to me,  
"Don't you see the starlight, starlight?  
Don't you dream impossible things?"_

“Do you want to?” Hope asks, gesturing her chin to the lights.

“Do what?”

“Sneak in,” Hope states, “It’s a party.”

“How do you know?“ Amy raises a brow.

“Call it intuition,” Hope shrugs.

_“But-“_

“No Amy,” Hope shakes her head, interrupting the other girl before she has a chance to utter some mood killing remark about education, “Jesus. Just give it a chance, you might like it.”

“I don’t want to get arrested.”

“We won’t.”

“But won’t they know?”

“They won’t know if we don’t let them,” Hope says, “Now come on, the nights burning.”

They practically run, almost stumbling on the sand as they rush toward the flickering pink and green lights. It turns out that it’s on some type of yacht. Hope’s hand is tightly grasped around Amy’s wrist, like an involuntary message of not letting Amy slip away from this decision.

It oddly comforts Amy, somehow wanting to not have Hope let go of her hand. It’s a thought that freaks her out at first, however, upon feeling the soft pads of Hope’s fingers smooth against her wrist, she feels more at ease. Potentially sending her heart racing at the contact. It’s like Hope knows what she wants, like she understands what she means.

People stand around outside the front gate, smoking, the strong smell of nicotine emitting from the clouds they breathed out. And it makes Amy cough, looking over to Hope as she stares at them, they’re easily over twenty by their facial features, bathed solely in yellow and orange tones as each of them wear established costumes that make Hope pause for a minute.

“What do we do?”

“Just follow my lead,” Hope mummers, dropping Amy’s hand to effortlessly tie her hair back and tuck the tail into the collar of her jacket without a word. Then taking Amy’s hand again, she moves past the gate.

_Like "Oh my, what a marvelous tune."  
It was the best night, never would forget how we moved  
The whole place was dressed to the nines,  
And we were dancing, dancing  
Like we're made of starlight, starlight  
_ _Like we're made of starlight, starlight_

If anyone suspects them of anything, they don’t come up to them, instead, looking to the rest of the crowd that bunched together throughout the wide floorplan. There’s a song that Amy can’t put her finger on that starts up when they walk into the room, and it makes her want to dance.

_Like full blown. The type of dancing you’d only ever do alone in your room at 3am._

And Hope apparently feels the same way too, however, being conscious to the issue of their attire, because she’s immediately pulling Amy by her wrist into another area of the yacht, there’s a wardrobe closet in the far end of a connecting bedroom that makes Hope relax.

“Here,” Hope says, opening a mahogany door, revealing white hangers and two outfits, Hope takes the first one and holds it up to Amy’s frame to take, “Wear this.”

It’s a tea length dress that Amy would automatically usually turn her nose at, it a deep crimson red, that makes Amy second guess the decision, however.

“No way,” she says, “That isn’t my thing.”

“Well,” Hope frowns, “I doubt this other one will fit you.”

“What is it?” Amy asks, looking at Hope as she holds up a maroon tunic and leggings, embroidered with gold designs and paterns across the chest and hem, Hope turns the outfit to Amy before shrugging lightly.

“I believe it’s a medieval prince outfit,” Hope extracts a black satin cape and a small tiara, before holding them to Amy’s eyes, “I believe your supposed to be some kind of duchess and I’m a prince?”

“Why do you get to be the prince?” Amy groans, “Men have like so more much power compared to woman in royalty situations.”

“Not exactly,” Hope says, “There’s a queen of England, not a king.”

 _“Right,_ but _-“_

“Elizabeth I literally executed her sister, if that doesn’t scream gender segregation or whatever you want to call it then your insane,” Hope remarks earning a surprised expression, “See? I pay attention in class.”

Amy rolls her eyes, “Fine, where’s the bathroom?”

“Just do it here,” Hope shakes her head with an amused smile, “I won’t look.”

“Like I trust your say,” Amy deadpans.

“I’m serious,” Hope says, “I’ll change too, watch me.”

Hope moves to slide her jacket from her shoulders earning a loud shout from Amy, “No! That’s not necessary.”

“What?”

“Really don’t want to watch you do that.”

“I don’t want you to either,” Hope’s eyes narrow, “Now turn around.”

They end up having to leave their clothes in that room, burying them underneath a bed for safe measures, Hope doesn’t say anything, only nodding towards the main floor.

There’s a chandelier that hangs overhead, completely astonishing Amy as another song starts up again, this one making her grin up to Hope for a moment.

“Do you dance?”

“Do you want me to dance?” Hope asks.

“I asked you first.”

“I particularly don’t,” Hope raises a brow, “What about you?”

“Nope,” Amy shakes her head with a smile, “But it doesn’t matter.”

“Really?” Hope laughs, clearly amused in Amy’s response, “Is that how we’re thinking now?”

“Sure is.”

“If this is you without Molly around, then I’ve got to take you out more often.”

Amy discards any remarks that she could make in terms of Hope’s disenchanted comment, instead, she decides to conquer the unknown nerves that stem within her gut, reaching her hands to circle around the taller girl’s neck, instantaneously letting simultaneous hands rest over the small of her back.

_Ooh, ooh, he's talking crazy  
Ooh, ooh, dancing with me  
Ooh, ooh, we could get married  
Have ten kids and teach them how to dream_

“Everyone’s dressed really nice,” Amy murmurs, it makes Hope shrug softly, leaning lips down to her ear.

“You always worry about things you can’t change.”

“It’s a habit,” Amy murmurs as they spin slowly.

“Sometimes life is better not knowing what’s to happen,” Hope states nonchalantly.

“Don’t you ever dream of impossible things too?” Amy says, and Hope shrugs.

“Yeah.”

“Like what?” Amy asks.

“ _You_ ,” Hope murmurs, “But you know what?”

“What?” Amy asks, the song changing to something upbeat.

“Maybe dreaming impossible things are good too,” Hope states.

“Yeah?”

“Totally,” Hope nods, “I know when I’ve got kids, I’ll teach ‘em all how to dream.”

“You want kids?”

“Maybe,” Hope shrugs, “I won’t shut that down.”

They separate for a minute, Amy’s hands grab onto the side of Hope’s cape, feeling their fingers intertwine as they move around, completely mesmerized by the impending lights above, it’s like they were made of pure starlight, completely avoiding all odds of anything but themselves.

They were young, completely unfathomable, but totally comfortable, despite being in a room full of unknown strangers dancing to a Taylor Swift song that played overhead. Amy could swear that she had forgotten everything, only focusing on the feeling of Hope pulling her back fluently, so her back was flush against Hope’s frame, swaying firmly to the chorus. She’s not sure how she managing to complete any of these moves.

Amy doesn’t do these sorts of situations, nonetheless, dancing with an almost complete stranger.

“You lied about dancing,” Amy states, slightly breathless once they return eye to eye.

“I like to keep everyone on their toes,” Hope states, “You especially.”

“You talk a load of crap,” Amy murmurs, leaning up to pull Hope down by her jaw, pressing their lips together.

_Oh my, what a marvelous tune  
It was the best night, never would forget how we moved  
The whole place was dressed to the nines,  
And we were dancing, dancing  
Like we're made of starlight, starlight  
Like we're made of starlight, starlight  
Like we're made of starlight, starlight  
Like we dream impossible dreams_

And just like that, Amy completely disregards any thoughts of Molly or Ryan, or anyone else but Hope, feeling herself become completely intoxicated in Hope’s own company, She hears the commotion around them, and still, she doesn’t let go of the moment that plays throughout her senses.

“As much as I think this would be great,” Hope says, once they part for air, “You should probably be getting home.”

“I want to come with you,” Amy says, feeling someone bump into her back sending her further against Hope.

“You know how it is,” Hope answers, “You’ve got to get back to your wife, and I’ve got to go back to being a bitch to you.”

“Alright,” Amy says after a moment, “Goodbye Hope.”

“You know,” Hope says, pressing a kiss to the top of Amy’s forehead, “No one ever says goodbye unless they want to see someone again.”

“I want to see you again,” Amy surmises.

“Good,” Hope whispers, “Because I feel exactly the same.”

“Is that why it’s hard for me to want to leave?” Amy asks, the question making Hope smile.

“You like me,” Hope says, “But you can’t admit it to your wife.”

“ _But_ -“

“You don’t notice that I always tease Molly?” Hope asks, “I never tease you.”

“I know.”

“Let it be known then that I’m not mean,” Hope clarifies, “Because I’m genuinely not. I’d never be mean to you Amy. Just trying to instigate stuff to get your attention usually, but never being purposefully cruel.”

“No Hope,” Amy shakes her head, “You’re not, I know you wouldn’t.”

“So, you _do_ dream impossible dreams then?” Hope asks, feeling Amy’s grasp slip from her shoulder, Amy’s frame being devoured through the waiting crowd that surrounded them.

‘ _Yes_ ,’ Amy thinks, eyes opening to the many posters adorning her tacky wallpapered room, ‘ _A thousand times yes Hope.’_

Molly’s face pops up over the edge of the top bunk, peering up to Amy’s frame, a sleep mask pushed up to her forehead.

“Ames?” Molly asks, hands coming to tap Amy’s shoulder lightly, “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” she groans, “What’s up?”

“You were talking in your sleep again.”

“Sorry Molls,” Amy murmurs.

“Is everything alright with you?”

“Yeah,” Amy yawns softly.

“Okay,” Molly says, “Well goodnight then.”

There’s silence for a moment, Amy’s eyes are closed, letting herself fall into a sense of sleep, however she feels herself say the question half-hardheartedly before being able to venture back into that realm.

_“Do you ever feel like your dreaming something that’ll happen in the future?”_

Molly doesn’t say anything for a minute, clearing her throat before shifting on the bunk below Amy, “What brings this up?”

“I keep having this reoccurring dream,” Amy murmurs, “And I feel like it means something Molls.”

“What’s it about?” Molly asks, voice clearly more alert.

“It doesn’t matter,” Amy dismisses, “I just **_hope_** it happens someday.”

“Well,” Molly sighs, “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll all work out fine Ames.”

“Right,” Amy mumbles, “I’m not dreaming impossible things.”

“What was that?” Molly asks, groaning softly before rolling over.

“Nothing,” Amy states, “Just go back to sleep.”

_  
Like starlight, starlight  
Like we dream impossible dreams  
Don't you see the starlight, starlight?  
Don't you dream impossible things?_  
  


**Author's Note:**

> feel free to yell at me or suggest something... I hate that ending, but I ran out of ideas.
> 
> i do not own the lyrics to "starlight" by taylor swift...


End file.
